


Café Valhalla

by Emareil



Category: Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 02:36:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12666546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emareil/pseuds/Emareil
Summary: The warm gold from the streetlights made Alex’s skin glow, and the long shadows played over her face. She looked otherworldly- and Magnus wanted nothing more then to take her thin, potter’s hands in his own and hold her. Instead he asked,“The first time I met you, you threw coffee at the Greek bakery owner. Can I ask why?”Alex actually snorted- though she managed to make it sound tasteful. “He’s a dick.”____It's a Café AU (Maybe an uncalled for one, but I promise it's full of lots of happy little moments, and some big revelations for Magnus-AKA Magnus comes to terms with his sexuality and also eats scones)





	1. Weapon of Choice: Iced Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Before I read Magnus Chase, I had never considered gender fluidity. I think these books are so wonderful because they give people like me, who might otherwise never have cared an avenue for understanding. Alex and Magnus are such a fantastic pair! Rick Riordan has yet to write a paring I dislike- honestly, he's fantastic :D
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Valhalla’s Cafe wasn’t the best place to work- not quite walking distance from Magnus’s apartment, but only two subway stops away. It was right in the middle of one of those gentrified art neighborhoods, and the hipster crowd it catered to seemed overly fond of trendy drinks Magnus considered unnecessary and overly complicated.

 

This month’s instagram worthy artisanal drink was something called a mocha monster- which meant several minutes of stacking white chocolate decorations properly _plus_ making sure the mocha latte had the right amount of sugar.

 

Magnus had quickly learned that mocha on its own tasted like disgusting sadness- but it was nothing compared to how difficult learning to properly layer rainbow teas had been.

 

The Café itself was on the cramped end of the cozy spectrum, and in the summertime it was never properly air-conditioned. That, and there was only one bathroom- for staff and customers, which meant sometimes when Magnus had to pee he was forced to hold it for uncomfortably long times- while _also_ keeping his customer service face pleasantly neutral. (Apparently _I-need-to-pee_ rain dances didn’t sell coffee)

 

The job wasn’t strictly necessary. Magnus was doing really well; significantly better then before, and probably better then the average college student. After his uncle’s death Magnus had actually ended up financially stable, for what was probably the first time in his life. Financially stable, and with a gigantic property in his name.

 

But overpriced coffee notwithstanding, Magnus loved Valhalla’s Café, which had seen him through the worst periods in his life. He loved the wooden tables, and the mix-matched plushy chairs, and the real wood fireplace, and the ornamental weaponry that was probably actually fully functional. Valhalla’s Café seemed like one of those special places, it glowed.

 

Magnus would finish his last class, and take the blue line subway for two stops and then use his staff discount to buy dinner while he caught up on term work before the night shift. The other staff were like family, and even though he didn’t _need_ to work to pay for school, Magnus felt restless when he wasn’t working. He loved his job.

 

Well…usually, anyways. Today wouldn’t have been a great day regardless- because it was Tuesday, which in Magnus’s opinion was the worst day- but the man who had just ran (literally sprinted) into the store was also a good, if not the preponderant reason Magnus’s day was not going well.

 

“Donut.” The man had demanded, pushing dark hair back over his forehead.

 

Taken aback by the sharpness of the demand, Magnus had taken a second to respond- only startling back to reality after the man had snapped long, delicate fingers under his nose.

 

“And an iced coffee. The largest one you have. The donut type doesn’t matter. I need them now please. As fast as you can.”

 

The request in of itself wasn’t that surprising- because patrons in a hurry were, of course, nothing new. It was what had happened after which had been an utterly unprecedented incident in Magnus’s nearly three years of serving coffee.

 

Which was; after overpaying by at least six dollars, the man had run back outside and thrown the donut like a projectile weapon, at a target Magnus couldn’t see. And then, after yelling something presumably obscene, also thrown the iced coffee like an incendiary weapon! The unknown target turned out to be a fat man whose profile was barely visible from where Magnus stood.

 

Magnus’s heart had dropped- his day had been going so well! He did not want to be held liable for injury via iced coffee.

 

“I’m not sure,” Said Mallory Keen (Valhalla Café’s owner and manager) from where she was watching the spectacle under the guise of making a Panini, “but I think that’s the bakery owner.”

 

Magnus squinted, trying to see the hidden victim through the glare on the glass- and sure enough, it was.

 

“I wonder what that’s about.” Mallory remarked mildly, transferring the sandwich to the display case.

 

“I’m going to go to jail for the sale of lethal weapons.” Magnus groaned, head in hands- and more then half serious.

 

Mallory snickered, craning her neck to better see what was happening.

 

Dripping with coffee, the bakery owner- who’s name Magnus had never bothered to learn, was looking surprisingly un-furious for someone who had suffered an attack at the hands of an iced beverage. If anything he looked distinctly ashamed- and Magnus switched to watching the mystery assailant.

 

The man who had run into the café was slight, and stood nearly a head shorter then the massive bakery owner- but where the bakery owner looked cowed, he looked unperturbed- even as his mouth moved quickly, shaping words Magnus couldn’t make out.

 

In the low café light, Magnus had thought the donut thrower’s hair was black- but in the bright sunlight the ends were distinctly malachite-colored.

 

With his bottle green, oversized sweater and skinny jeans, he looked a lot like Magnus’s other customers- a trendy twenty-something, no doubt with an art degree and a healthy amount of hatred for capitalism-slash- other trappings of the establishment.

 

But there was something about the way he carried himself that set him apart. In the café his presence had been massive enough that seeing him small, juxtaposed against the fat baker, came as an actual surprise.

 

And there was the tattoo that stretched across the back of his neck- only partially covered by his tangle of dark hair. Maybe it was the grace in how he walked- like a dancer- and the lithe way he shifted from foot to foot as he watched the baker. He looked almost predatory.

 

Or maybe it was how, after what seemed to be a terse standoff, the baker (who was usually belligerent and a general asshole) crumpled- and said something, which from where Magnus was watching, looked like, _I’m sorry._

“Well what the hell.” Said Mallory, sounding genuinely shocked for the first time, “That was something else.”

 

And Magnus, watching the mystery man pinch his temple and stride primly away, couldn’t help but agree. _That was something else._

________

 

The second time the mystery iced coffee offender came in, Magnus didn’t notice until he looked up- his “What can I get for you-“ petering off abruptly.

 

“I’d really like a peppermint hot chocolate. With as many marshmallows as you can fit in it?”

 

“Okay.” Said Magnus cautiously, already scanning the café and outside sidewalk for potential offenders. The café was empty except for a couple of students who were hunched over laptops- and the sidewalk _looked_ deserted.

 

The man made a small noise of amusement, and Magnus realized that he probably hadn’t been as surreptitious as he’d intended.

 

Magnus looked up, awkwardly- the man’s lips were quirked on the left side, and his eyes were narrowed. His eyelashes caught the light, and Magnus stared for a second, transfixed.

 

The man’s smile deepened, and yes- Magnus could feel himself going red with embarrassment.

 

“Can I have your name?”

 

The man raised an eyebrow, “It’s Alex.”

 

 _Alex._ Magnus shook himself slightly- uncomfortably aware of how loud his sharpie was against the plasticy cardboard cup. A. L. E. X.

 

Alex.

 

 _Breathe_ , Magnus.

 

After he’d spent, probably as long as was socially acceptable trying to calm his frazzled nerves he looked up again to see the mystery man- Alex, watching him with that half-smile still on his lips, and all of his newly-gained composure went right out the window.

 

“Is that everything?”

 

Alex nodded absentmindedly, holding out a hand with the exact change already prepared.

 

“Okay,” Said Magnus after he’d put as many marshmallows as would fit into the warm drink (which, after some melting had been nine)- and then mostly out of awkwardness he blurted, “Please don’t throw it at anybody.”

 

“I suppose that could be arranged. “

 

To Magnus’s relief the man- Alex, looked amused. To his immediate horror- Alex sat down at one of the tables and opened up a book.

 

Over the next hour, Magnus watched Alex out of the corner of his eye. Today he was wearing a big sweater and olive sweatpants with a floppy pink hat pulled over his hair. The hat was that millennial color- rose something. Maybe rose gold or dusty rose- it was a subtle, pretty color that Magnus recognized as being trendy.

 

With the winter hat and the thick sweater and the hot chocolate cupped between his hands, Alex didn’t really look like a threat at all. He looked deceptively cozy- as he sat gently turning the pages of his book with those long, graceful fingers.

 

Still, Magnus figured he should still keep an eye on him. After all, you never knew when someone would go crazy and start throwing drinks.

 

 

________

 

Sometimes when Samirah Al-Abbas wasn’t too busy with all the work that tended to come with law school she would come and sit in Valhalla café, even though she’d quit working there two years ago.

 

Now, mostly she came in to read case studies and to order tea in volumes that probably were not healthy. And, of course, to interrogate Magnus under the guise of friendship.        

 

“So you’re still single.”

 

Magnus rolled his eyes, helping himself to a bite of her pastry. “And you’re still engaged?”

 

To his delight, Sam blushed. Her wedding was scheduled an indefinite time in the future- presumably sometime between passing the bar and her inevitable million-dollar career. Even though it was old news, Sam and her fiancé Amir Fadlan were still madly, adorably in love.

 

“You’re avoiding my question, Magnus.”

 

“I’m really not.” Said Magnus- although that was exactly what he was doing.

 

Sam raised both of her eyebrows so high they came almost to the edge of her hijab.

 

“Mallory?” Magnus called, to where Mallory was taking inventory, “When is my break over?”

 

“Nice try beantown,” Valhalla Café’s owner called back, her Irish accent sounding even thicker as she snickered, “I want to hear this too.”

 

“I hate everyone in this shop.” Said Magnus, taking the liberty of finishing Samirah’s entire pastry.

 

“Even yourself?” Sam asked, after she’d finished acting appropriately offended at the pastry theft.

 

Currently, they were the only three people in the café, which wasn’t surprising considering the Café’s actual hours were 5am-12pm and it was currently 11:21pm. (They’d discussed bumping the hours back a little bit- but the only time Mallory would even consider not providing nourishment for the early morning yoga/late night rave crowd was on the day of the St. Patrick's Day Parade)

 

Halfborn Gunderson, the pastry chef, had gone home at five- and on weekdays Magnus was usually the only barista who would take the night shift. Mallory, who lived above the shop wasn’t even officially on the clock- but everyone loved Sam.

 

So- the door jangle going off was surprising enough that Magnus’s witty self-depreciative retort died in his throat.

 

Even more surprising, was the woman who walked in- she was absolutely, stunningly attractive, with delicate, angular features- and full lips set into an expression that looked frustrated-but also seductively inviting.

 

Her eyes were two different colors. One was honey-gold and the other one looked black- both highlighted with smoky powder that glittered even in the low light.

 

Her hair was pulled upwards and secured with a long pin that looked more weapon then hair ornament, and she was wearing a black dress with a neckline that came almost to her naval. She carried a diaphanous dark green shawl over her arm, and a pair of stiletto heels in her hand.

 

But what shocked Magnus was that he had seen her face before- he was sure of it. And, sure enough, when she moved into the brighter light near the counter he could see the ends of her hair were dyed deep green.

 

“Hot chocolate. Peppermint. With lots and lots of marshmallows. And as many pastries as I can get for twenty dollars please.”

 

Magnus watched as the woman (the man?) passed a twenty to Mallory, and trudged over to a comfy armchair, slumping into it exhaustedly. The fine bones of her collarbones stood out in the shadows, and Magnus kept an eye on her (him?) as he helped pick out an assortment of ten pastries.

 

Really, twenty dollars was only enough for six pastries, but with how tired and vulnerable the mystery woman (man?) (Alex) looked, Magnus figured she could really use the extra sugar.

 

When Magnus brought her the pastries, and the hot chocolate, Alex made a tiny noise of recognition. Something like surprise, or maybe satisfaction flickered across her face before she turned to leave. Magnus’s stomach dropped- in the pleasant butterflies kind of way.

 

Magnus watched her closely, with the shawl wrapped around her shoulders, and the shoes and paper bags clutched in her arms she looked like the world’s most attractive vagabond- and there was something familiar about her, besides Magnus having seen her in the Café, Magnus was sure they’d met somewhere else. Vagabond. Huh.

 

Magnus wondered if she would walk home without her shoes on- if she even had a home- and felt the irrational urge to follow her out of the shop.

 

“You know her!” Samirah hissed, after the woman had left, a concerning amount of glee in her voice.

 

“I really don’t.”

 

“You think she’s beautiful?”

 

“I don’t!” Magnus glared at where Sam was looking way too smug.

 

She closed her heavy textbook, and set her hands on it primly. “Say _Wallah”_

 

“Wallah.” Said Magnus- immediately feeling like a deity was going to materialize in front of him and smite him for being a hedonist.

 

 

________

 

The next months were good ones for everyone. Magnus finished another semester, and even though he wasn’t so sure medical school was going to be for him, his marks were okay-enough that he felt like maybe everything would be okay.

 

Blitzen and Hearth quit the Café- to focus on Blitzen’s shop full time- but still popped so often it felt like they’d never left. Samirah, predictably, continued to top her classes- and not so predictably, Mallory Keen and Halfborn Gunderson moved in together.

 

“ _IF_ we get married- and that’s a _big_ if, Magnus- I absolutely refuse to take his last name. Mallory Gunderson- Mrs. Gunderson? Can you even imagine?” Mallory snorted over the Sunday mid-morning coffee rush- because ‘ _so… you and Halfborn?’_ had totally been a question about marriage.

 

Later, over fresh blueberry scones, Halfborn confessed, “I’d be okay with Halfborn Keen.” Apparently they’d been a thing for a _lot_ longer then Magnus had realized.

 

Really, Magnus was happy for them- but to complicate his own life, Alex had taken to showing up a lot more.

 

It had gotten to the point where she was almost a daily customer, and Magnus had memorized her breakfast order; Peppermint hot-chocolate and as many marshmallows as possible- apparently the saturation point of Peppermint hot chocolate was seventeen marshmallows- because after that point they stopped melting and no more could physically fit in the cup.

 

It had taken a bit of trial and error to get to that point. Magnus had even considered supersaturating the hot chocolate by adding them in while it was boiling in the machine- but after one sticky, sticky mess, had decided the comedic value was not worth the cleanup effort.

 

Magnus had also figured out that Alex liked chocolate cookies and the pumpkin scones they only carried in the autumn months- but after a quick conversation with Halfborn, had suddenly become a year-round type of pastry. Sometimes Magnus put vanilla bean sprinkles on Alex’s cookies, or cinnamon, or drew things on her cups.

 

Sometimes, when the café was mostly empty he would take his breaks with Alex, and they would talk about inconsequential things together.

 

Alex liked reading too, and liked making things with her hands. Some days she came in with pottery clay stuck to her face, and sometimes she wore the same outfit for several days in a row.

 

Alex and Samirah had also become fast friends- and through Sam, Magnus had found out Alex owned the pottery studio down the road, and taught workshops to homeless kids.

 

Alex, it seemed, was one of those people who had their lives together. Although, a lot of the time she looked worn out-on the verge of exhaustion, and when she wasn’t busy making snappy remarks Magnus could tell she needed a good night’s sleep- not just another hot chocolate.

 

Alex was also an enigma. Some days Alex looked decidedly male- lithe, dancer walk and posture relaxed, and sometimes, although she looked exactly the same, Magnus could tell something inextricable had shifted. In the way he (she?) stood, in the way he talked- it was gentler, distinctly feminine- though Magnus didn’t want to make assumptions. Alex never offered any personal information, and Magnus figured, if you were gorgeous enough it didn’t really matter what you were wearing.

 

And yes, sometimes- Alex wore low cut dresses, or well tailored suits- and showed up in the wee hours of the morning, and Magnus would try his hardest not to stare at the places where warm tan skin met tight cloth- and usually fail.

 

Magnus couldn’t quite figure Alex out- so he’d unconsciously made another box in his head. Men that he knew, Women that he knew and Alex (Alex-es) that he didn’t really know.

 

________

 

It was a slow day, and Alex had shown up with a massive book tucked under his arm and a pink scarf wrapped around his neck.

 

He hadn’t even bothered to order, just trusting that Magnus would bring him his drink-which true to form, Magnus did. Shuffling the hot drink for Alex and the herbal tea for himself Magnus sat down across from where Alex was tucked up in the overstuffed armchair he usually took.

 

Halfborn Gunderson stuck his head out of the kitchen and flipped a scone across the café by way of greeting.

 

“Magnus.” Said Alex cordially, reaching up to pluck the scone from the air with expert reflexes.

 

“Hmm.” Alex put the scone in the middle of the table. “It’s cinnamon.”

 

“How’s your day?” Magnus asked, trying to think of something new to say.

 

Alex smiled his sly half-smile and bit the scone, not even bothering with a response. His fingers were covered in something flaky and grey. It was smudged across his face too, and dried in his hair.

 

“You have clay on your cheek.” Said Magnus, eloquently.

 

“It’s an aesthetic choice.”

 

Magnus laughed, genuinely and they sat in comfortable silence. Although, he’d never really seen Alex sit any way but comfortably. He didn’t think it was possible to Make Alex uncomfortable.

 

The last time he’d seen Alex, had been yesterday- when Alex had tromped in at 11:37 am wearing a white sheath dress with green drop earrings glittering in a way that made her seem both beautiful and sinister. (Magnus was pretty sure he’d been a she) Her hair had been up, exposing the graceful curve of her neck and the snakes tattooed there- when an older, drunker man had also stumbled in.

 

“Beautiful lady, hello.” He’d slurred, stumbling into Alex. Magnus’s stomach had lurched, but something had told him Alex could take care of her self, and wouldn’t appreciate valiant attempts to rescue her.

 

Sure enough- she’d extricated herself with all the grace of a dancer, and strongarmed the drunk from Valhalla café with all the authority of a bouncer- he’d later found out that the man had followed her all the way off the subway.

 

“Go home. You’re drunk.” She’d said so firmly even Magnus (who was painfully sober) had felt the urge to go home and sleep off all the alcohol he hadn’t consumed, “And I want a candy-cane donut.”

 

If sloppy drunk stalkers didn’t weird Alex out-Magnus doubted there was anything a mild, generally un-interesting college student could do, but he worried.

 

“Alex?” Said Magnus, heart beating rapidly. He prayed he wouldn’t upset the man sitting across from him. “Can I ask you a question?”

 

“I’d say you already did, but we both know that’s not what you meant.”

 

Taking that as a yes, Magnus forged on, “If this is personal you don’t have to answer- but I was wondering_”

 

“Yes.” Alex cut him off, speaking around the scone in his mouth. “If this question is about my gender the answer is yes.”

 

Magnus nodded, although in his opinion that hadn’t cleared anything up- if anything he was more confused now. Alex must’ve seen his expression and taken pity on him, because he swallowed his croissant and elaborated.

 

“I’m genderfluid. It changes from day to day- sometimes I’m a man, and sometimes I’m a woman. I don’t control it- I just go with the flow.”

 

Magnus nodded- mentally trying to figure out how that would work,

 

“Understand?” Asked Alex.

 

“Not really.” Magnus said, honestly.

 

“That’s okay. Respect is all I’m asking for.”

 

“For the guy with a propensity for beverage throwing, of course.”

 

That seemed to please Alex, because he leaned back and offered a portion of his scone, which was still warm and melted in Magnus’s mouth.

 

Later that night, long after Alex had sauntered away and out of Valhalla Coffee, Magnus had opened up his first generation Apple MacBook and tried to figure out the puzzle that was Alex.

 

 

________

 

Magnus prided himself on his apartment. Really, it wasn’t much-not at all, but it was nice little flat. Just off campus, and right by a corner grocery store where they sold fresh-pressed fruit smoothies, and a short distance from the faculty library.

 

His favorite part about the apartment was the collection of pictures he had framed on the wall by his bed. Previously they’d been taped up, and before that, carried around in his tattered backpack- but he’d figured it was about time to do things properly.

 

Magnus also did furniture properly. He had a bed- a nice Ikea one, and a couch (A not so nice free one sourced from a sidewalk after the term was over) and a table set. He also had a tableware set- several mismatched plates and cups and utensils that weren’t plastic.

 

Last summer he’d purchased a can of paint- a blue that was so bright and pale it could’ve been white, and he’d spent two days painting over the dingy beige. He’d also bough some houseplants- and now they kind-of ruled his apartment, sitting around his windows, and hanging from the ceiling to ensure optimum photosynthesizing.

 

Sometimes when the sun shone bright and glowing through their leaves Magnus was reminded of his mother, and the long hikes and clean air of his childhood-before the accident. (Gas leak)

 

Magnus also had another house- full of dusty antique furniture and the kind of cutlery that matched- silverware and crockery and varnish- all the kind of residential excess that went far beyond what was needed to become a functional adult.

 

It was his uncle’s house (mansion)- and Magnus had briefly considered living there, but the house had felt like a crypt, a mausoleum. The dusty luxury, and the sprawling interior felt like his uncle was spitting in his face, post mortem like _Look kid, I had all this space and was totally okay with letting you freeze on the streets for three years._

Still, Magnus felt wrong selling it- giving up a huge piece of his family history felt like giving up on his mother. Magnus preferred not to think about it, content for now, to focus only on the tiny apartment, which was his and his alone.

 

Currently, his apartment was also home to Samirah Al-Abbas, Halfborn Gunderson, Mallory Keen, TJ, Hearth and Blitz- who had made themselves comfortable on Magnus’s couch/floor. (Though Halfborn who was currently checking the loaves of bread he’d put in Magnus’s oven.)

 

They were also expecting Alex- Alex, who’s whole name Magnus had just learned- was Alex Fierro.

 

Magnus hadn’t invited Alex to board game night. It had been Sam’s doing- and Magnus had only actually found out Alex would be coming two hours ago. Currently, he was in a state of minor panic.

 

“Magnus you seem on edge” Sam captured TJ’s rook with her knight, “Everything okay?”

 

Magnus nodded, and tried to tie his hair up- before immediately taking it back- who even wore man buns anyways?

 

“Is it because Alex is coming?” Mallory waggled her eyebrows.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Okay,” Samirah exchanged a weighty look with Mallory, whose eyebrow waggling became even more overt. “Because you said I could invite a friend.”

 

Magnus threw the nearest available projectile at Mallory- a discarded chess piece and frowned. It was true, he’d been okay with Sam brining a friend, he’d greenlit the text before he’d even bothered to consider the implications. Really, he should’ve asked her who, but he hadn’t ever imagined it would be _Alex._

He didn’t even know why the idea bothered him so much- they were friends, weren’t they? They’d eaten together with relative regularity over the past few months, and Magnus saw Alex almost every day. Plus, it was obvious Alex and Sam were close.

 

Magnus was kind-of jealous of that. When Alex and him talked they talked about stupid things. Donuts. The Weather. Murderous rage about the current political situation- but Magnus didn’t even have Alex’s phone number.

 

The text conversation with Sam had gone somewhat like this.

 

Magnus: _Game night Friday? U free?_

Sam: _Yes._

Sam: _I’m bringing the halal snacks_

Magnus: _You mean Amir?_

Magnus: _And yes- please bring falafel._

Sam: _Ha. Ha._

Sam: _Ok if I bring a friend?_

Magnus: _?_

Magnus: _(ys of course)_

Magnus: _See u at library in 30_

And then, several hours later.

 

Magnus: _Pls tomorrow night bring my tea mug, I think I left it on the table._

Sam: _You did._

Magnus: _Thx!!_

1:01 am

 

Magnus: _Wait, what’s your friends name so I can say “u must be so and so”_

Sam: _lol_

Sam: _Magnus, it’s Alex Fierro_

Magnus: _K thanks!_

_4:37 pm_

Magnus: _Wait, Alex Fierro who?_

Sam: _?_

 

Sam: _The Alex Fierro I see you with almost every day?_

Sam: _The Alex Fierro you spend inordinate amounts of time putting marshmallows into drinks for?_

Magnus: _!_

Sam: _Alex will be there at 6. Don’t bust a nut._

Sam: _A coronary!! Wrong expression! Freudian text!_

Sam: _Though, honestly, would that be so bad?_

Sam: _lol_

Magnus: _is typing…_

So that had happened (was happening) and Magnus actually _was_ really on edge, no matter how much he tried to hide it- when the doorbell went, his heart dropped into his stomach.

 

Alex Fierro was wearing a big pale-pink shirt, and black leggings, and she had her hair tied back into what was ostensibly a man-bun. Or a messy bun for short hair. Whatever. When she took off her shoes she was wearing florescent green fuzzy socks.

 

She was also carrying a big fired-clay platter, which was covered in fruit and chocolate. She was _also_ beautiful- Magnus noticed the hair that had come loose from her bun was framing her face- and the way her eyes glowed, and the soft curve of her lips (and the curve of, well, other places through her tight yoga pants)

 

When she smiled at Magnus, he felt a thrill of fear run through him- fear that he wasn’t sure was even really fear.

 

Sure, he’d noticed Alex was attractive before. You’d have to be blind not to- but there was a difference between appreciating the aesthetics of someone’s face and whatever was happening to Magnus now. The lurching of his stomach. The way he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

 

This had happened before- of course- but suddenly it seemed like a curtain had fallen away.

 

 _Shit,_ he muttered to himself- before taking a deep breath, and the platter- and then excusing himself to his bathroom to pee. (Or to collect himself)

 

What the hell was happening to him? Was he really in love with Alex Fierro?

 

When he came back, Alex was dominating Settlers of Catan, and enough fruit had been eaten off of the platter that the scaly snake pattern below was clearly visible- intricate and highly unusual.

 

“It’s for you,” Alex grinned, gesturing at the platter, “I made it.”

 

“It’s beautiful.” Said Magnus, resolutely not looking at Alex.

 

Several others voiced their compliments, and Magnus snuck another look at Alex who was staring at her cards- a little crease between her eyebrows.

 

“Magnus join my team.” TJ offered, graciously- flashing Magnus his cards- mostly wheat.

 

Gratefully, Magnus accepted- and took a seat on his floor, because his nice sidewalk couch and Ikea chairs were all full.

 

In the end though, the stockpile of wheat TJ had been coveting made no difference- Alex was a Settlers of Catan tyrant, and within several brutal rounds she had them all blocked off- and suffering, her little lines of green wood castles were insurmountable.

 

“You’re a fascist!” Mallory complained- after Alex succeeded in crippling her burgeoning sheep empire.

 

“Defeat the bourgeoisie pig!” TJ cheered, After Alex had to pay rent to Halfborn Gunderson. It was a small satisfaction, because she dominated at Monopoly too- eventually bankrupting Samirah, who usually won.

 

Magnus couldn’t help but wonder if she was counting cards, nobody could be _that_ good at Monopoly.

 

Luckily- she was terrible at scrabble- and Mallory Keen seemed to take vicious joy in keeping score, “That’s twenty-two points to Samirah- and oh! Only seventeen points to Miss Alex.”

 

Eventually, Alex conceded bitter defat to a much vindicated Sam- and thanked everyone for a great night.

 

“Wait, don’t go yet! We have to get drunk and make bad decisions.” Complained TJ who was probably feeling warmer towards Alex after seeing her finally lose. He was also already very drunk.

 

Alex smiled, “I have to get to work.”

 

There were groans- but everyone had already accepted the fact that Alex Fierro was a force of nature and that trying to prevent her from doing anything was like standing in front of a tsunami.

 

“Magnus,” Said Samirah from where she was still staring at her scrabble wordplays with satisfaction, “Why don’t you walk Alex back.”

 

“I’m okay.” Said Alex - but Sam was undeterred.

 

“No really. It’s late and it’s dark. Magnus knows the way to the subway- and to your house.”

 

“I do?”

 

“Yes Magnus.” Sam rolled her eyes, “She lives a block away from Café Valhalla.”

 

Alex was watching the exchange with a bemused expression.

 

“Do I have a say in this?”

 

“No.” Said Sam, Mallory, Heath and TJ in eerie synchrosity.

 

“It’s dark. Magnus will take you.”

 

Magnus wanted to ask Samirah why she couldn’t take Alex herself, if night safety was so important to her- but figured that would probably be rude. Instead he said,

 

“And leave you alone in my apartment?”

 

And he was met with a chorus of complain, from all of his friends- who insisted that he “knew the area better,” and that “your house is fine” and something that looked suspiciously like, “Go get laid” from Hearth.

 

“Are you mind controlling them?”

 

Sam only laughed- while Magnus’s sycophant friends snickered. “ _Go_ , Magnus.”

 

“Well.” Said Alex, after Magnus had gotten his shoes and coat and they’d rode the elevator down in silence, “That was concerning.”

 

“I agree.”

 

Alex laughed easily- and Magnus couldn’t help but join in; both of them laughing into the quiet of the night, alone except for each other.

 

The warm gold from the streetlights made Alex’s skin glow, and the long shadows played over her face. She looked otherworldly- and Magnus wanted nothing more then to take her thin, potter’s hands in his own and hold her. Instead he asked,

 

“The first time I met you, you threw coffee at the Greek bakery owner. Can I ask why?”

 

Alex actually snorted- though she managed to make it sound tasteful. “He’s a dick.”

 

“Was that all?’

 

“No.” Alex’s expression darkened somewhat. “He was supposed to give me his unwanted bread at the end of the day, all of the bakeries do. He thought throwing it out was more economical, and easier because he could close his shop five minutes earlier.”

 

“You must really like bread.”

 

Alex fixed him with her most patronizing look, “it’s for my kids, Magnus.”

 

Magnus stumbled on the subway stairs.

 

“You have kids?”

 

“They’re not biologically mine if that’s what you’re asking. I founded the home foundation- I house kids who need me to.”

 

Magnus felt a swelling of something in his chest- a telltale lump in his throat. He remembered Samirah saying something about Alex letting kids live in her house, but he’d pictured more of a pottery camp.

 

He suddenly remembered where he’d seen Alex before. The shelter on (insert). She’d been there briefly. A small, too thin kid with a lot of anger. He’d remembered because of how caring she’d been.

 

Magnus remembered waking up one night- there was a boy crying, he missed his grandmother, he didn’t know what to do, and he’d fallen back asleep to Alex whispering her reassurances to a virtual stranger.

 

_Shhh, it’s okay, you’re safe. It can only get better then this, Shhhh. Don’t cry. You’re okay. Shhh._

There was something dripping down Magnus’s face, he shook himself out of his reverie- and was embarrassed to find himself crying.

 

Alex didn’t say anything, just looked at him with a heartbreakingly tender expression on her face, and forged on ahead- giving him space.

 

When he’d gotten his wayward emotions under control, Magnus caught up to Alex where she was standing on the edge of the subway tracks- her toes just over the yellow plastic safety line.

 

It wasn’t that late- maybe around nine- but the station was still mostly empty and the few people that were there looked more like scenery, frozen in their own personal tableaus on the far ends of the platform.

 

“I remember you. Winter Street, the youth shelter.” Said Magnus quietly, after they’d boarded. He sat but Alex preferred to stand- balancing precariously on her toes, and swinging with the movement of the carriage like a dancer.

 

“I know.”

 

And then the subway went careening around a sharp turn, and Alex almost lost her balance- but stayed up. There was a small, private smile on her face- and Magnus thought he’d never seen anything that beautiful in his life.

 

“What’s your favorite song?” Magnus asked- even though he’d already heard the answer, a month and a half ago over lemon scones.

 

Alex had thought, and then said- with only a hint of irony, _Beyoncé- Diva._ Magnus had YouTube it that night, and laughed for what seemed like hours- and then cleaned his house to it.

“Antonio Vivaldi. Spring-Allegro Assai- the superior spring movement”

 

Alex’s mouth was quirked- and Magnus thought that somehow, this answer was more truthful.

 

“You?”

 

Magnus shook his head, “I don’t have one.”

 

“Favorite color?”

“Sunlight shining through leaves, when it’s that bright green color.”

 

Alex grinned, “That’s not a color.”

 

“Favorite word?” Magnus asked.

 

“Sui Generis.”

 

“That’s two words?”

 

“What’s your favorite word, Magnus? Tumescence?”

 

“It’s Mom”

 

Alex turned to face him. “Is that supposed to be a deep, like a meaningful John-Green-precocious-kids-on-quixotic-adventures, quote?”

 

Magnus laughed for real again- still a little watery and shaky, “No- no. It could be Dad too. It was in my linguistics course- all around the world mothers and fathers are Mom and Dad, Ama or Baba, Mama, Dada- all the same sounds, because those are the first spoken sounds a baby will make. I just think it’s cool how universal the word is. It’s like mom speak, or mom-ese.”

 

“It’s still pretentious.”

 

“And _Sui Generis_ isn’t?”

 

Alex rolled her eyes, “How about Philoprogenitive, Or Parturient, Sagacious-“

 

“You’re describing yourself! Philoprogenitive- many children. I’m majoring in Biology, you know.”

 

“Not really. I made an obscure vocabulary list when I was reading James Joyce- and I memorized it to impress my kids. It’s an ongoing thing.”

 

“James Joyce,” Magnus tried to recall the last English lit course he’d taken, “That’s the guy who wrote Ulysses. And those poop fetish letters.”

 

Alex nodded.

 

“I think that makes _you_ the- what was it? Quixotic-pretentious-John-Green angsty teenager?”

 

“I wish,” Alex said- the joking tone gone from her voice, replaced by something more serious, “I never went to university, I didn’t have the financial means. Reading a lot- memorizing words, it’s probably an intellectual inferiority complex- I want to look smart for the kids. Convince them that education is always worth it.” She chuckled. “ _Plus_ \- I am _not_ a teenager. Or angsty.”

 

Feeling that this was the most Alex had ever revealed about herself, Magnus chose not to press her. “I bet you were angsty. You have green hair- that has to be like, at least a six in Emo cred.”

 

“All true Emos die their hair black like their souls Magnus, the green hair is because my hair color is at the discretion of my tenants.” She smiled sadly, “Plus, I certainly had a lot to be angsty about.”

 

“Yeah.” Said Magnus- feeling altogether inadequate. Thankfully the subway screeched to a halt and interrupted what was probably going to be an awkward silence. He sent a quick thanks to the patron god of convenient subways stop timing- and tried to reassemble his thoughts while they climbed out at the bakery/hisperville station.

 

“For example- no matter how much ass kissing I do I still haven’t gotten any grant money- that would make anybody angsty.”

 

So that was where Alex was when she wore her suits and ridiculously attractive dresses.

 

“What do you need the grant money for?”

 

“A house,” Said Alex, matter-of-factly. “I need money for a house, and for more supplies, and for maintenance. People aren’t sure about the idea of non-institutionalized no-questions asked lodging for at risk kids.”

 

“You need a house.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I have a house.” Said Magnus- his mouth moving, apparently, far faster then his brain.

 

“Magnus,” Alex smiled- and Magnus decided he liked the way his name sounded on her lips, “It should be a little bigger then your apartment.”

 

Still not sure exactly what the hell he was doing, Magnus persisted. Something about this felt right- like fate. “No. I mean, I have a house.”

 

Alex stopped walking abruptly. “What?”

 

“My Uncle left me a house- a mansion. And money. I don’t want it. I didn’t know what to do with it. I paid off my loans. It’s yours-“ His words were sticking in his throat in his haste, “You can have it. Take it.”

 

Alex was quiet- unreadable emotions flickering across her face.

 

Magnus fumbled for his phone, pulling up the photos the executor had sent him, “Here. It’s big- it’s really really big. Here look.”

 

“Magnus,” Said Alex finally, “I can’t accept.”

 

“I’m giving it to you.”

 

Alex shook her head, eyes fixed on something in the distance.

 

“And it’s not about you, it’s not like I’d be using it anyway. It’s about the kids who need it. I know what that feels like. I _want_ to help. We can use this.”

 

“Magnus,” Alex whispered again- and involuntarily Magnus shivered.

 

He thought, briefly, that he wanted to make Alex Fierro say him name like that over and over and over again.

 

And then Alex Fierro moved, faster then Magnus could’ve predicted- delicate hands coming up to cup his cheeks, the back of his neck. They were so close, they were breathing the same cold, winter air- Alex’s breath blew out in puffs and curled around the edge of Magnus’s face.

 

And Magnus couldn’t breathe, his heart was pounding. He was looking directly into Alex’s eyes, and it was intoxicating. Alex leaned in, their noses brushed against each other-cold cartilage- but Magnus felt like he was on fire. Every inch of his body was responding, tingling, burning.

 

And then Alex drew away- joy still written all over her face, even as her guard slowly came up again. Magnus couldn’t have moved if the earth had split open at his feet.

 

“Thank you Magnus.” Alex murmured- still close enough for her breathing to be warm on Magnus’s cheek.

 

She seemed to be waiting for something- expectation in the lines of her body, but Magnus was still frozen. Slowly she turned to go, and Magnus watched her small figure disappear down the street and into the side door of a brightly painted building.

 

When he could no longer see her, he brought his fingers to where their noses had touched- a profound feeling of loss coursing through him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! My apologies for the delay, I thought it was already posted... I know, I'm terrible. Enjoy! Much love, etc. <3

When Magnus finally got back to his apartment Samirah Al-Abbas was the only one left. She’d cleaned up the games, and the snacks- for which Magnus was grateful.

 

In his frazzled, nerve raw state he doubted he’d have had the energy to do anything more then flop onto the couch, which he proceeded to do.

 

“So?” Asked Sam, in an expectant, leading tone.

 

Magnus shook his head. There was a lot happening in his brain. Way too much.

 

“Ok.” Sam pulled her phone out. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

 

Magnus didn’t bother to reply, just lay on the couch with his boots and jacket, waiting for his body heat to turn the cold fabric warm and toasty. He listened as Sam played some game on her phone, and tried not to think of the way Alex had looked at him.

 

“Sam,” He said finally, “I don’t know what’s happening in my own head.”

 

“Is this about Alex?”

 

“I don’t know.” Magnus answered truthfully, “I can’t think properly. It’s like I don’t understand anything about myself anymore.”

 

Samirah’s voice was gentle, warm. She leant over to wrap an arm around Magnus’s shoulder.

 

“Do you have feelings for Alex?”

 

Magnus groaned, dropping his head on Samirah’s shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

 

“Why is that confusing?”

 

Why _was_ it confusing?

 

“Alex-“ Magnus whispered, as quietly as he could- hoping that Sam wouldn’t hear and he could just ignore his problems forever, “Is a guy. Sometimes. He’s a guy.”

 

Sam made a tutting noise. “And you’re not attracted to Alex when he’s a him?”

 

“No.” Magnus suddenly felt out of place in his own house- like he wanted his mother to come and tell him everything would be okay even though she was long gone, he wanted her. “No. I’m- I’m always attracted to Alex.”

 

“Magnus.” Said Sam, smiling in the same warmly consternating way that Alex sometimes did, “That sounds like the opposite of a problem to me.”

 

“I just. I didn’t think- that I could be attracted to guys. I mean, I’ve had thoughts before, but I just never had reason to act-“

 

Samirah actually chuckled.

 

“Does that make me,” Magnus had to force the words out, “Does that make me gay?”

 

“I think,” Said Samirah, still gently, “that it doesn’t really matter. You’ve can be or call yourself whatever you want- you know your friends won’t go anywhere. All _I_ know is that you’re in love with Alex.”

 

Magnus looked at her.

 

“Nobody looks at someone that much unless they’re head over heels. Also, you blush every time she- he- Alex, enters a room.”

 

“I do?”

 

“You do. Everyone noticed.”

 

“Everyone?”

 

“ _Everyone_.” Sam asserted.

 

Magnus reached out, and hugged her as tightly as he could- warmth and something like revelation spreading slowly through him.

 

________

 

Over the next few months Magnus’s old mansion was transformed into something incredible- and Magnus no longer dreaded stepping over the threshold that before, had always seemed like the gateway into a crypt.

 

There was something about Alex that was transformative- she lit up rooms- literally and figuratively. She was making the house anew. There- a room where Magnus, cold and tired, had been ignored by an uncle who still associated children with loss- was now a room full of Alex.

 

Magnus realized he no longer blamed his uncle for failing to care for him, he’d been forgiven- and that really, his uncle had been dead since the day the boat accident had claimed his family.

 

Magnus could look back on memories with his uncle with gratitude- remembering games played with his cousins, and impromptu history lessons instead of the cold distant man who hadn’t recognized his own nephew.

 

And his Uncle Randolph’s mansion, the dusty preserved monument to a lost family was no more. Alex dubbed the place the ‘Chase Space’ one day, after she (and the unfortunate drywall team) realized several rooms were actually booby-trapped- and the sarcastic name stuck.

 

Renovations were tough sometimes- they wanted an open main floor plan with a big kitchen and lounge space, and the top three floors were going to be dormitory style, but more personal. The only thing they kept untouched was the library, and a handful of the glass showcases. Alex though that ancient weaponry was always a wise design choice- and though Magnus wasn’t sure how homey fourteenth century bronze axes were, he knew better then to disagree.

 

They turned the top of the house into a garden, which wasn’t hard because there were already green-spaces there, albeit rundown and dying ones. Magnus worked with the plants while Alex worked with her teams of renovators- and his work, like always, reminded him of his mother.

 

Sometimes Mallory or Halfborn or TJ would stop by with food for everyone, and coffees in the mornings. Sam would stop by too- but it was usually to provide moral support. Magnus liked when she brought the extra food from her Fiancé’s restaurant. (Crepes and Panini’s were good, but falafel…mmm)

 

Blitz and Hearth promised support too- Blitzen’s Best was doing incredibly well, well enough that the pair found time to wander over almost every day. Blitzen had also taken it upon himself to provide all of the beds and furnishings- saving Magnus a very expensive Ikea trip.

 

All in all things were going better then Magnus could’ve dreamed- except for the Alex thing.

 

They saw each other everyday, talking to Alex- being with Alex had become as natural and as easy as breathing. They both worked late into the night- and although Alex was incredibly busy she spent every moment she could working on the house.

Magnus wasn’t actually sure when she slept.

 

Once they’d even fallen asleep together- nothing like _that_ had happened of course, they’d been on the couch staring at the brand new kitchen, both of them drinking cold tea and enjoying a rare moment of downtime. When Magnus was woken up- maybe three or four hours later, Alex had still been asleep, eyes closed and face smooth and worry-free.

 

Magnus had laid down a blanket, so Alex was covered and warm- and moved on. Every now and then he would come by to check- just to make sure Alex was okay, and Magnus remembered feeling like he was privy to something precious beyond words.

Still, things were just a little bit awkward- professional maybe. Because even though Alex was a fixture in his life Magnus wanted _more._ He wanted to wake up to Alex Fierro every morning. Magnus wasn’t quite sure what to do about that, and that want hung heavy between them.

 

________

 

They’d saved the top floor of the mansion for last, because that was the floor full of bedrooms. Magnus’s cousin’s rooms had been left untouched, probably for close to ten years, but they were shockingly dust free- which made them seem unnatural.

They were little kid rooms, one painted bright pink, and the other sky-blue, way at the end of the hall, still filled with stuffed animals. Magnus hadn’t had a problem demolishing Randolph’s dusty bedroom, but when it came to his cousin’s rooms he couldn’t step through the doorway.

 

Alex had understood, had taken his arm and guided him away- gently but firmly, and when he’d returned there’d been nothing there but a large empty space.

 

“We can put couches here, and snacks.” Alex had said, brightly, “It can be a lounge space.”

 

And Magnus had walked around, examining the bare floors and exposed drywall- looking maybe, for a hint of his uncle, or his family or even his mother. But for better or worse, there was nothing left of them.

 

________

 

After the renovations had finished the house felt new, open and inviting- even if it was still a little bit stark. The first of Alex’s kids moved in as soon as the house was deemed structurally sound, and you no longer had to wear a mask when you walked from room to room.

 

For the most part, everyone was respectful- shocked and sullen maybe, but nobody made trouble. Magnus didn’t know what he’d been expecting- but he’d been there too. It seemed like the best kind of irony to him, the house that had kept him out in the cold was now open and welcoming.

 

Sometimes Magnus wondered if his Uncle would’ve liked the idea if he’d been in his right mind, and although Magnus had no way of asking, everything he was doing felt _right._

Magnus didn’t really know how to talk to kids, not the way Alex did. She connected with people instantly, and understood them in a way that Magnus envied. It was okay though, Magnus kept the fridge full, the gardens blooming and the first aid center clean and he felt like he was contributing.

 

(He was also infinitely better at charming sponsors and donors then Alex had ever been)

 

Two months after the first kids had moved in, Magnus came back from school to Alex and a few teenagers (Who actually looked delighted) sculpting a clay gigantic dragon over and around the front staircase.

 

“Hey!” Alex called, like sculpting massive clay dragons that were easily more then a hundred feet long was nothing out of the usual.

 

“Hey” Magnus called back, because at this point in his life, surprise clay projects actually were semi-normal.

 

Last week it had been installing thousands of wire and faux-crystal butterflies in a swarm inside someone’s room, and the week before that it had been forcing Halfborn to teach everyone how to make pies, so that they could have a pie war- and the week before that it had been a horrible life-sized and shockingly realistic nude sculpture of their nearest and _dearest_ senator, as well as miniature animals and vehicles which were likely to turn up everywhere.

 

Today’s dragon in question might possibly have been more then one hundred feet- the main body came out from the upstairs hall, and then dropped over the balcony before snaking up the adjacent wall, up on the ceiling and back down the railing. The head was resting in the center of the entry room, and was easily the size of a small table.

 

Where Alex had even found enough clay for such a task- or the steel struts necessary to suspend her dragon Magnus didn’t know. (It was Blitzen and Heath- of course.)

 

“It’s their punishment.” Alex explained later, as Magnus helped her clean pounds of clay out of her bright green hair. “There are no drugs in Chase House. Breaking my laws means death by dragon.”

 

Magnus snickered, which seemed to annoy Alex.

 

“Magnus,” She threw a hunk of gooey clay at his face, “No laughing at my dragon.”

Magnus put his hands up- and then remembered how freaking big the thing was, and dissolved into laughter again.

 

Alex’s eyes narrowed, and Magnus apologized quickly before Alex wound up to throw another clay chunk at him- as he knew from experience she would.

 

Later that week Magnus came back to his apartment to find his fridge clayed shut- by a pink-painted dragon that someone had wrapped around the entire fridge magic-fleece-guardian style.

 

Magnus got the message loud and clear. The next day he made sure to compliment the Chase House dragon extensively, and sure enough, that night- the dragon was gone from his fridge- and appeared wrapped around somebody’s night table instead.

 

Although he’d never admit it, Magnus loved the idea of Alex Fierro in his apartment.

________

 

Everyday Magnus fell more in love with Alex, with the wicked cunning written all over her face, the way her body was always a little bit tense- like she was preparing for a fight that was always just around the corner.

 

She was the most selfless person he knew, even on her worst days- when she was running on caffeine and the barest vestiges of muscle memory, she would be there without question for anyone who needed her. Her heart was wide open, and the best part of Magnus’s days were when he would come back to the Chase House and just _see_ her.

 

Alex, talking in a low voice, curled up on the stairs with someone who needed it, dishing out chores with the forcefulness of a drill sergeant, staring at math homework with her brow scrunched up.

 

He wasn’t sure how Alex felt about him, not really- but he figured she had to like him, considering they spent most of their time together.

 

Both of them were wary, Magnus full of self-doubt, and Alex- for all of her confidence to afraid of change to make the move. But still, something was between them- something massive and powerful and something that couldn’t be ignored.

 

But the logistics- the _where_ and _when_ , those were far less certain- and Magnus had all but resigned himself to a lifetime of awkward pauses, and lingering touches and bratty teenagers making inappropriate comments.   


But despite finding several _lewd_ illustrations, and enduring dinner table jokes, and impromptu choruses of _you shook me all night long_ after Magnus had told Alex he was shaking.

 

“Watch it Chase.” She’d grinned over game night, “I’ll make you regret that.”

 

“Oh,” Magnus had drawled, trying to sound cool, “I’m shaking.”

 

And two months later apparently it was still funny. If Magnus hadn’t been so sure Alex was the one, he might even have found it annoying.

 

Instead, it was a constant reminder that he needed to _do something._

________

 

Today, Alex had climbed the multiple flights of stairs to ask Magnus how he felt about putting some vines inside- and he stood, slightly out of breath on the roof.

 

He had a pale green shirt rolled up over his strong forearms, and the wind blew through his dark hair- whipping it into his face. Today was one of those, cloudy, early spring days where it drizzled rain that wasn’t quite rain and wasn’t quite snow. Above their heads the sky stretched white and featureless, but Magnus liked the white sky. It seemed, clean, almost magical- like everything was shifted just slightly.

 

Alex too, seemed magical. The stark contrast of his hair against the white of the clouds, the way his features seemed soft, almost serene in the muted light. He was beautiful.

 

“The garden,” Alex smiled, “Magnus- it’s beautiful.”

 

Magnus nodded his thanks. What he wanted to say was, _no, you’re beautiful-_ but even with limited dating experience he knew that wasn’t a smart idea.

 

“I’ll see you at lunch then?”

 

“Okay.” Said Magnus stupidly. He felt the overwhelming need to say something else- something better- something that wasn’t _yeah vines, what a nice idea._

 

Alex leant in to kiss him on the cheek, to hug him, and Magnus leaned into the hug- into the warm contact. Alex was soft against him, but Magnus could feel the sharp bones of his hips and strong shoulder blades under his hands.

 

Alex pulled away- turning to go, but they were still pressed tightly together. Magnus leant in slowly- more on instinct then anything else. He could feel there was _something_ between them. Alex leant in again- another cheek kiss- this one clumsy and lingering- and then they were eye to eye.

 

Magnus could see the water droplets clinging to Alex’s eyelashes- and Alex was looking at him, his eyes dark black and amber, both full of something that was still undreadable. Magnus’s heart was hammering in his chest, but he didn’t look away- he couldn’t.

 

He smiled, and the left corner of Alex’s mouth bent up. Magnus scanned his face for something- for permission? His features were angular, sharp, lethal- beautiful. Impossibly beautiful. Alex raised his eyebrows like, _come on_ or _okay_ \- and they were both leaning in.

 

Magnus’s stomach dropped- and their lips met. Alex moved with deliberacy, his lips were strong, forceful- and instinctively Magnus brought his hands up to tangle in Alex’s hair, damp with the rain.

 

Alex’s lips curved up, and Magnus realized he was smiling too- and then Magnus was smiling too- and it was hard to kiss, but they managed it. Alex pressed up against Magnus, and to Magnus it felt like he was on fire- Alex Fierro was here- was there- was kissing him.

 

When finally they pulled apart, Magnus was sure he looked drunk- because he felt drunk, unsteady on his own feet. Alex, looked austere in his happiness, his chin raised ever so slightly.

 

“Magnus.” Said Alex, almost cordially.

 

“Hey Alex.” Magnus whispered.

 

Alex smiled, brilliantly- so that his whole face lit up.

 

“You know I love you right?” Said Magnus- which in retrospect was a foolish thing to say, but it felt right. It felt like he’d known Alex Fierro his whole life, and everything that was happening was nothing more then ineluctable fate.

 

For a minute Alex just looked at him, sphinx-like, he blinked once. Twice- and then he sighed.

 

“I love you too, Magnus Chase.”

 

_______

 

And then they went and got coffee, the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opinion question- do you think it's a good idea for me to link my tumblr/instagram? That way people can actually dm me and tell me to keep writing, because I'm likely to forget. (both are the same as my ao3 if you actually want to say hi :) )

**Author's Note:**

> I'll post part two this week (Probably tomorrow). It's mostly done, I just didn't feel like spell-checking the whole document and split the long thing in half :)


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